A few days ago I found myself with time to kill before picking up Little Boy from school. I decided on the spur to peruse a little antique market near our home. Throcky has been sending me antique post cards which have been quite intriguing and I wondered if one could just walk into an antique store and buy such things. I was pleased to find that one can not only buy the beautiful victorian post cards that Throcky has collected, but also the campy wish-you-were-here type from various national landmarks.

I picked through these and found some that were wonderful, faded, black and white cards that I think would work well in some future projects I might be doing. I also found a box of old photographs and grabbed a few of those. (Beautiful faded landscapes and the occasional odd shot of a group dressed in clothing of the period, looking awkward.)

I also stumbled on an unexpected treasure: A ziplock bag containing a packet of yellowed correspondence. Last night I went through these letters and found the best of them spanned a family from 1915 through 1924. I instantly became consumed with the beautifully handwritten pictures of life at the dawn of the automobile. So much so that I started to put together their story.

The main players of this saga were Clifton Warren and his wife, Mabel. Clifton and Mabel had two sons. Glenn was the elder and Donald was the younger. They live in Ovid, MI, which is still the sleepy little farming community describe in their letters. The entire family seems staunchly Christian, perhaps Catholic, but I can't be sure.

In the autumn of 1916, Mabel's mother dies after an apparent long illness. Mabel's cousin, M. Edna Van Dyke of Seattle, WA, writes a note of sympathy, so elegantly worded.

The next letters are from 1916. Mabel is now living in St. John's, MI, which is some distance from Ovid. She and Donald are both staying somewhere called "Bunge House". It appears that Mabel feels Clifton has "sent" her there and is distressed. There was no mention of "Bunge House" on the internet, although there are still Bunge's in St. Johns. Later letters discuss Mabel as being ill and hoping she and Donald are feeling better. I think, perhaps, "Bunge House" was a TB sanitarium.

Mabel receives several letters from her father, George Casler, who has taken up the company of a Miss Lucy. George seems a might manipulative. He wants to marry Lucy, but she will not live in Ovid, nor in the home of his late wife. He seems preoccupied with some money Mabel has, perhaps wanting to have it for a downpayment. George and Lucy marry suddenly and buy a home in Owosso, MI, (a fairly big town for that area).

Mabel's brother, Walter, owns a sheep farm in Ovid. His wife, Cora, writes to Mabel of their father's wedding and the new home they've bought, which has never been lived in by anyone. There is a little envious description of the conveniences in this new home; electricity, washing machines and stoves. One gets the impression Lucy is more than a little spoiled and perhaps a bit younger than George.

There are several letters from Clifton to Mabel, stoicly detailing his work days up until the closing where he states his love for her. There are heartbreaking notes from Glenn to his "Mommy" asking over and over when she is coming home.

The one thing everyone mentions? The Chicken Pie Dinner put on by the church. Apparently the social event of the season.

There are no more letters until November of 1923. Mabel has died and Donald is back home with Clifton and Glenn. There is an outpouring of sympathy from relatives around the country. Many are writing to say they had made it back home after the funeral. They all speak of God wanting to have the wonderful Mabel with him because she is so good and Clifton is strong enough to raise the boys without her.

There are a few letters from 1924, to and from Glenn who goes away to school and is now using a typewriter for his correspondence. There is little detail. Glenn receives one letter from his grandfather, George, detailing his not being at work because of either Excema or Emphysema, I'm not sure which. Either way, it's not keeping him from gardening and traveling.

The letters stop here. How interesting it was to step into these lives. To feel their pain and experience what it was like when everyone learned to write an interesting letter and use the language of the time. To envision sleighs and wagons as the mode of transportation. To imagine the pain of your life's love having to go away to be ill and die alone.

Fascinating.